With the help of the notes that Lou’Deu’n left behind, Gar began to teach Kanrel the language of the Atheians, with the condition that Kanrel would try to teach him the human language. Y’Kraun served as the translator, although seemingly bored, as he didn’t seem too interested in language learning. And to alleviate this boredom, Gar had the fantastic idea that they’d have these lessons, not at the Grand Library but instead at the restaurant that Y’Kraun seemed to love. This didn’t help, as their trustworthy translator, instead, became easily distracted at times, letting his mind and eyes wander to much more pleasant views and thoughts, leaving Gar and Kanrel, at times, to figure out things for themselves.

They could, of course, take Y’Kraun’s pearl and give it to Gar instead, but Gar insisted that this would be the best way to translate their respective languages to each other.

The process was annoying. It had been a long time since Kanrel had had to learn a new language, and sometimes his frustration was easily noticed by Gar, who seemed to have the patience of a saint. But this was no wonder, since he was a teacher, after all. How often did Gar have to deal with the frustration of his students, and sometimes even their parents, when the student didn’t understand something or had difficulties with either personal things or just their studies in general?

One must learn patience, and even though Kanrel thought that he was someone who had considerable patience, he now slowly began to realize that this was false. The issue wasn’t that he didn’t have patience; it was that he didn’t have much patience with himself. When he failed or made a mistake, he couldn’t help but be cruel to himself and critique each step that led to his own failure. This was beneficial, in a way, but at the same time, it was something that made him so burdened with his own mistakes and regrets.

He’d analyze the mistakes he made on the way, but his analysis was often flawed. Not that it was incorrect, at least in the sense of seeing the things that went wrong, but he’d easily ignore the things that went well. Hence the crushing feeling that would overwhelm him at times. This was one of the thought patterns that he had learned throughout the years. It was something he ought to alter instead of getting rid of entirely, for its benefits were obvious.

At the same time, they continued the lectures at the auditorium, with increasingly excited students asking more and more questions about the world above, as well as Kanrel asking them questions about the things Gar read to them.

Then, they reached a topic that many of the students were anticipating the most: magic.

It wasn’t a topic nor a skill that was equal within the Atheian society. And among the students, there wouldn’t be many, whose talents at magic would be good enough to ever dream of reaching the same heights as some of the novices—the disciples of the Universal Truth—at the Sanctuary.

This newfound excitement was something that he could understand, for he had been the same before the Ritual. The idea of magic was alluring; it was something not many understood and was even more feared among the general population. In the Atheian society, magic was the norm. It was, in fact, revered. During the old empire, magical ability and status were connected and intertwined, as the more powerful in combat and so forth were considered to be better than those who could barely produce a flame to start a fire.

Atheian magic had a peak to it. A ceiling one could not grow through. Every Atheian would reach that ceiling one day or another. For some, that ceiling was that of a one-story building, and for others, it was a tower, like the Spire, that reached the heavens, until heaven itself, or the cave, became the ceiling through which they could not pierce through. And when they reached that ceiling, they’d only have the wish to go through it. To seek the excitement of power flowing through their veins, but then having to deal with the inability to breakthrough. Cold. The world becomes so cold for an addict who is unable to get their next hit of whichever substance they might need to feel elevated and superior.

It was akin to human magic, but the gift from the angels was lesser in power, giving the side effect of emptiness from the moment a priest wakes up from the Ritual. But, in theory, there was no ceiling. At least, not that anyone knew of one. The human understanding of magic was different when compared to the Atheians and the Sharan, for it was not something that was innate. And only the very basics of its theory were given to them by the angels. Instead, humanity was left with this power alone, to figure it out for themselves, and through a thousand years of development, the Priesthood had grown more knowledgeable, and the average priest was more powerful than those that came before them, but even then, the progress wasn’t as great as one would think or hope.

So in a way, there seemed to be a ceiling, or at least a step in a staircase, that humanity, in its understanding of magic, was yet to take or breakthrough.

Before, Kanrel had hoped to be the one to figure out the secrets of magic itself. And even now, within he had this sense of duty that still remained, even after losing much of the faith that he had. Even after becoming so cynical of the Angels and their gift. Even after realizing that it was in fact a curse and not a gift.

When Gar began reading a book about the very basics of magic, he soon accepted the fact that there wasn’t that big of a difference between the three magic systems. It was a game of knowledge. If you knew that something existed, then you could use it to your advantage. If you realize that there is heat all around and you have sight of the area where this heat exists, then you can alter it.

You can change the temperature of that area, and through it, you can achieve a flame if you know what fire needs to survive. If you’re presented with a rock and know more or less what a rock is and what its attributes are, then you can alter those as well.

These were all the same, and really, the only differences that Kanrel could notice were the same ones that he had realized long before: the price of these powers and the fact that the Atheian magic was innate to them.

Kanrel accepted this, and again he was left to wonder if, at the Sanctuary, he’d find the answers that he sought. To all the questions that he might have, from the veil and the shadows to even magic. But to gain entrance there seemed unlikely.

The questions Kanrel had for the students were simple this time: what he wanted to understand was the visualization process of the students and if they had a common, well-understood way of practicing magic. And if there were outliers when it came to technique, as well as if there were those who had a similar technique to what he used.

But, based on their answers, most used a similar way of visualization, and when the students asked in return what methods Kanrel used, he chose to lie and gave an explanation that had been given to him when he was still a student at the Academy of the Heavenly: “When lifting an object, for example, a chair,” he said and pointed at the chair on which Y’Kraun sat, rather cozily, “I imagine a pair of hands that lift them, basically a normal process that one might use while lifting any object they so desire to lift.” He performed a simple code, one he had used many times by now, not one really using visualization as the Atheians understood it, but instead numbers and letters, a true code, as he thought it to be; and so, the chair began to levitate, with Y’Kraun still sitting on it.

Y’Kraun and the chair reached a few meters up, the Atheain didn’t seem amused, and the gaze he gave Kanrel served as a warning left discarded, Kanrel then performed another code, one to keep Y’Kraun stationary and safe, as he then jolted the chair across the auditorium, so that the students might observe the Atheian, who had lost his ability to move, the expression of extreme displeasure as they demanded Kanrel to let him down.

“As you can see, human magic isn’t that different from yours; it can be as intricate as Atheian magic, and one can do many things with it,” he explained and then turned the chair and Y’Kraun upside down. “And as you can see, I’ve performed another command, which then keeps our beloved translator safe while I play around.” But these words were left untranslated as Y’Kraun chose to instead barrage Kanrel with curses and multiple threats of what he would do to him if he didn’t let him back down.

Despite Y’Kraun’s distress, the students seemed to be impressed and rather amused by Kanrel’s antics, as well as Y’Kraun’s threats and curses, and even Gar held a grin on his face as he observed the situation. After a minute or so, Kanrel finally let down his disgruntled friend and released the code that held him in place.

Y’Kraun got promptly up, his grin wide, and his blue eyes gleamed with righteous vengeance. He did something—a motion with his left hand, perhaps just for the theatrics—and Kanrel could feel how he was forced on his head to float above the ground.

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“As you can see, the Atheian magic isn’t that different from yours; it can be as intricate as is human magic, and one can do many things with it,” Y’Kraun began to explain, and slowly, Kanrel could see the world around him begin to spin—no, the bastard was going to take his revenge and make Kanrel spin in place, to experience what Y’Kraun had experienced just now. “And as you can see, I’ve performed another command, which then makes our beloved guest, the Darshi, spin, just so that he might experience multiple things.”

“For example, vertigo, something, I am sure, that most proud students have experienced at least once or twice after visiting many of the bars and clubs nestled in our City of Lost Light." The Atheian continued, all the while Kanrel screamed at him to stop, his voice becoming something one could barely understand.

The auditorium was filled with amused laughter as the students intently listened to Y’Kraun’s explanation, as well as witnessing the form of revenge he had picked.

Then, Y’Kraun made the spinning stop, and all Kanrel could see was the world stay in that motion. The world spun and felt like he spun with it.

“And hopefully,” Y’Kraun said and gently placed Kanrel back on the floor, “through this experience, he might feel as well as learn something he doesn’t seem to have a sense of; at least I could possibly attest that he has no sense at all, but what I am mostly referring to is his lack of manners.”

“He might learn some.”

Kanrel tried to get up, but the ground called for his return as he fell back down, babbling about things that made no sense, then he emptied his stomach on the ground.

Y’Kraun stared at Kanrel, then he cleared his throat. “This was another thing I had hoped that he might experience; it is also something that many students should be familiar with... To my understanding, it is something that usually happens after a night of bar hopping, possibly during the next morning.”

“Nausea it is called, and the action our beloved Darshi just made is called ‘vomiting'—I am certain that this, too, is familiar to all." Y’Kraun kept lecturing, “Now we might only hope that he might experience the thing, which then is often the outcome of such an experience.” Y’Kraun seemed to ponder for a moment, as if not recalling what he was supposed to say next, then he faked clarity, “I do believe they call it 'regret.’” Y’Kraun then returned his gaze back to the audience and lamented, “I do hope that he might feel lots of it.” The Atheian finished his speech and sat down as promptly as he had stood up in the first place.

The students seemed to enjoy both the lecture as well as the showcase of both, the magic of Darshi and the Atheian magic, even when Y’Kraun was by no means an Atheian with considerable talent.

The rest of the day, Kanrel was indeed regretful. He knew that he made a terrible mistake, a lapse in judgment, for he should’ve spun Y’Kraun around more and released the code that held him in place; then again, he would’ve had to cover Y’Kraun’s eyes with another code.

The rest of the week, they spend in the study of magic, deepening Kanrel’s understanding of how the Atheians saw it, as well as Kanrel’s perception of it, making things clearer than they had been before. His understanding and knowledge of Atheians and their culture grew considerably, and the tutoring from Gar helped him, although it was fairly slow, learn the very basics of the Atheian language. These five weeks felt like the most productive time that he had had in such a long time. Even if much of the things that he had wanted to learn remained a mystery to him, even if he was by no means any closer to home. Even then, he couldn’t claim that the five weeks spent with Gar and the students were wasted.

Gar was slowly growing into a friend that he could trust, and Y’Kraun had become even closer to him than before. The students, although he couldn’t really name most of them, weren’t too afraid to approach him even after the end of their lectures. Their curiosity and the willingness to let that curiosity take control and ask the most outlandish and even uncomfortable questions made it possible for there to be honest conversations between them. Even if Y’Kraun was the one that would always have to be the one to translate Kanrel’s words back to them, sometimes clearly showcasing embarrassment because of the things he sometimes heard as well as had to then repeat. This changed Kanrel’s perception of Y’Kraun ever so slightly, for it became clear that the ex-serf was a lot more innocent regarding many things than what Kanrel had at first expected. Or maybe it was the fact that Y’Kraun was a lot more aware of the gender of those to whom they spoke. Was the Atheian, in fact, shy around the opposite sex? But then again, weren’t his often awkward exchanges with U’Ran’Ui more than adequate proof of this?

Kanrel was certain that if he hadn’t taken the Ritual, then he’d find Y’Kraun’s company quite amusing, and possibly even fun or funny. This thought brought him to a stop, as he made notes of their last day at the Grand Library and its auditorium. It had been such a long time since he had wondered about such a thing. But the fact that he could recognize this assumption that he had, this fleeting thought, made him realize that he in fact was appreciative of Y’Kraun’s company. The Atheian he once considered to be an alien creature, who at times felt cold and distant from him, had become someone he could consider to be a friend.

Kanrel made note of even this, writing the following on the final pages of his almost full notebook:

“Whilst I drowned, my head underwater, I had thrust my hand upward, in hopes of a savior, but there was none to pull me out, and I kept drowning; I kept sinking beneath the waves, losing hope, and at last uttering my final prayers, accepting defeat and death that would set me free.

Then, a sudden burst of light opened a door toward which I had tried to run; visions of an apple tree becoming complete in this shattered mind, a hand grabbed mine, and pulled me up, up from the waves, up from the depths of the sea, up from the darkness that had tried to swallow me, up, on my feet again.

I’ve come to understand that one should lean on those around you. Even if it makes you feel like a bother, even if it makes you feel so guilty and sick. Accept the hand that reaches toward you; accept that there are those who might want to help you, even when you believe there to be no one.

Accept the hand of your friend, your family, or that of a stranger, even if you’re afraid to fully grasp it. Even if you’ve tried before and failed. Even if you just want the pain to end. Even if torment might still remain. Accept that hand and live, not for yourself but for the one who had tried to save you.

Live so as not to disregard their bravery and their genuine attempts to help you. Live, for death is so very cold, and the death of a friend might hurt the one who had tried to help, even when you yourself believe that there is no such thing as hope.

Live, for death will come either way to wash away the pain.”

Kanrel sat there reflecting on this sudden burst of emotion that he had laid upon the final pages of his notebook. These words that he had pointed at himself and the debt that he felt toward Y'Kraun had now become a pillar, of sorts, that of a bridge suspended above the dark waves that wanted to swallow him and that which remained of him.

That singular pillar wasn’t alone. There were others as well. They were people, and they were beliefs. They were promises that he felt that he ought to keep. Dreams that were so important to any man. Those pillars of that bridge were, in part, built from the list of impossibilities that he had written down some months ago. And now he realized that there were other parts of that bridge as well; some of the pillars were indeed people that he missed and that he loved. He didn’t know if all of those people he longed to see once more were alive or if they were long dead by now. But that didn’t matter; it was a bridge he’d cross when needed to. For now, he had to hold that spark of hope close to his chest and let it guide him through the darkness.

He didn’t close the notebook, instead leaving it open so that the ink might dry. He got up and paced around the room, directing his thoughts to other things, those that were as important as the pillars on that imaginary bridge. Things that would make that bridge stronger and would tend to the pillars that kept the waves from swallowing him.

Kanrel pondered what he ought to do next. What might be his next destination? He came to a halt, his eyes again meeting his own shadow on that smooth wall. He could begin forming plans for his own expedition into the veil. But he disregarded this plan for now. Kanrel needed to be able to produce light capable of pushing the shadows of the veil away from him so that he might navigate it safely.

Kanrel then remembered something. During the lectures about magic, Kanrel had asked how to create magical devices, such as the lamps that lit this very room. But he had been pointed toward two places... The City of Creation and the Sanctuary.

One of these was a place he didn’t wish to return to. The idea of reuniting with A’Daur’Kra wasn’t a pleasant thought; it felt like something he’d only do if there was no other way of learning about magical devices...

But the idea of entering the Sanctuary seemed nigh impossible. How could he, a mere human, enter a place meant for only the most talented practitioners of magic?

Kanrel continued pacing around the room. He knew that the Sanctuary was something he’d have to enter no matter what. He knew that in their secret archives, he’d be able to find the answers to all the questions that were held within. The answers he sought must’ve been within there.

Magic… He stopped again and looked at the ceiling. Kanrel blinked a couple of times. What if there was no ceiling? What if, at last, with his own gaze he’d be able to pierce through it; what if he’d be able to change it... What if he’d be the one to take the step and breakthrough the meager human understanding of magic? To perfect it. To become more powerful than even the greatest Atheian magicians? Or even the Sharan? He had to find the metaphysical ceiling of his own magical abilities; he had become so lazy with them and so afraid of the curse that he had accepted.

For how else could a mere human enter the abode of all magic within the land of shadows below? How else could an alien creature enter the Sanctuary and find out the secrets of the Universal Truth?

Kanrel returned to his notebooks, opening a new one; he baptized his pen in ink and began to write another plan he hoped to will into reality. He would write down everything he knew about magic, and not only the human version of it, but the Atheian and the Sharan versions as well. The similarities and differences between them. Everything he knew. He would perfect his own magic. He would perfect the coding language, which had been neglected for a long time. He would practice every day. He would breakthrough the ceiling above him, which did or did not exist, for he and no one else before him knew the true limitations of the curse given to humanity by the Angels…